Ouch!

Warning: this is a feeling a little sorry for myself post.

Well, I finally hurt myself (not too badly) yesterday on my very last day of skiing (Andrew - I know, I know. You warned me). I had had one of the best days skiing all year. Conditions were really good (for April) and the slopes were almost completely empty, so I didn't have to worry about being run over by a snowboarder. I skied all over Heavenly Resort, starting on the California side and ending up at the bottom of the Nevada side.

I was skating forward to get on the lift, and I caught my ski on a post, and went flat on my face, landing really hard on my knees. Those same knees that hurt in general all the time, anyway.

I heard a chorus of, "Woah, Duuude. That huuurt!" from the kids running the lift and then, "DUCK!" as the chair swung around toward my head. I had seen the chair, and was wearing my helmet, so I just lay there and let it go by.

I was in pain and embarrassed and I wasn't thinking clearly. I jumped up and said I was ok. One of the guys helped me on with my ski that I hadn't realized had come off, and I caught the next chair up. As soon as I was on the chair, my right knee started to hurt badly enough that I started feeling sick, and began to wonder how I could throw up without falling off the lift. Then I felt faint, and was afraid I was going to pass out and fall off the lift, so I wove my arm through the slats in the back of the chair just in case. Luckily it was very cold yesterday, which helped. I then began to wonder what I would do if my knee didn't work when I got to the top because it REALLY hurt.

Luckily it did. Work, that is. I had a choice of skiing back down (now that I was thinking more clearly) and catching a bus over into California, or making my way back across the mountain. I decided that, since my knees both still seemed to work, and I had been having so much fun, I would ski (carefully) back. This was the shortest route. Seriously:


Almost an hour and six lifts later, I had made it back to California and my car. And more importantly, the BAR. The bartender was kind enough to make me an icepack, and I sat, ate lunch, drank a Long Island Iced Tea, took some Advils, and iced my knee for a long time. The bartender then refilled my ice, and I then drove two hours back home with the bag tied to my leg with a scarf. The bruise is coming up nicely! It should be all kinds of pretty colours soon. You can't really see the swelling in this photo...
Self portrait. Note the same red fuzzy blanket backdrop.

Falling over in the lift line is very embarrassing, but at least I didn't break anything (at least I don't think I broke anything) like our governator did when he fell over on the ski slope supposedly while standing still a couple of years ago.